


Burning

by shellalana



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Post-Canon, Self-Pity, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellalana/pseuds/shellalana
Summary: Almost dying in hot lava takes a toll on the sniper; Brick goes out of his way to talk sense into him.





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> A Month of Fanfiction Challenge Day 27: Substance Use - Alcohol, drugs, etc.

Smooth. Burning all the way down. Burning his troubles from the inside out. Mordecai should have complained about the shittiness of the cheap beer, but that was the point of it. Pay bottom dollar to drown your thoughts for a few hours until you care about nothing at all. It had been his goal in coming here, to this shitty bar in the middle of nowhere. A place where there were no expectations of him. No one asking him to go on runs or seek assistance for some stupid ass job. It was just him, the bottle of beer at his lips, and a stinky shithole filled with people he wouldn’t mind putting bullets in.

Only it was taking a lot more alcohol than he was used to to feel himself sink. He blamed that on his mood and the almost-death he’d experienced in that volcano. Tension still rippled through him like the buzz of electricity from a Maliwan pistol eating through his shields. The memory of heat bathing his skin had kept him awake, had made it difficult to remind himself that it hadn’t been a dream. That this wasn’t some sick twisted idea of an afterlife.

Another swig passing his lips put that thought to rest. He didn’t need to jumpstart his adrenaline again.

Sighing, he fished more money out of his pocket and slid it across the sticky counter to the bartender on the other side. A man with a healthy dose of stubble and a missing eye, a hunk of metal riveted to his skull as some kind of eyepatch to keep it covered. A sound of approval escaped him as he crumpled the money into a ball and shoved it into the pocket of his stained apron.

Then he perked up at the closing of the bar’s door… and so did everyone else with him. Silence settled over the room at this new patron, and Mordecai’s curiousity tugged his head towards the unknown. Approaching him was Brick, a scowl on his face that communicated his disapproval of his best friend being out here.

“Shit.”

“You know that guy?” the bartender whispered to him, obviously intimidated by the large size of the man. If only he knew what Brick was really like.

“… I paid you for drinks,” Mordecai reminded him with a scowl. He wasn’t here to talk about his personal life or who his friends were. The eyepatched man gave Brick one last look before he went into the back for more booze.

“Mordy! What the hell’re you doing all the way out here?”

The sniper could feel the warm air from Brick’s yelling tickling at his neck, and he shrugged off the feeling. The last thing he needed right now was to be judged for how he coped with almost dying.

“Pretty sure I don’t gotta answer to you, Brick, now leave me th’hell alone.” He tried to take another sip, but found his bottle empty. Great. “Better question, how th’fuck did you find me all th’way out here?” Brick wasn’t the brightest, so it was surprising that he’d managed to tail him into bandit territory.

“Gaige showed me how t’ping ECHOs to find you.”

… okay, so he underestimated him on that one. Brick, one. Mordecai, zero.

“Well, now ya know where I am. Can ya go home now?” Peering into the backroom, he could see the bartender shuffling around, and heard the clinking of full bottles against each other. What the fuck was he doing back there?

“Nuh uh. Not without you.”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Like hell you’re not!” It didn’t take much for the brawler to wrap an arm around the sniper’s waist and yank him from his stool. Thin limbs flailed in response, though Mordecai wasn’t surprised. This wasn’t the first time Brick had dragged him away from drowning his sorrows in booze. This wouldn’t be the last either, but this was different. Mordecai hadn’t been drinking out of sorrow or anger. He was scared shitless, and didn’t know of any other way to deal with it.

He thrust his head back as hard as he could, and struck Brick right in the mouth. It hurt like hell, but it was enough to get the large man to drop him.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Brick. Tired o’people tellin’ me what to do.” As he fixed his clothing, he tried to ignore the people eavesdropping on their conversation. “I jus’ wanna be alone, alright?”

Brick stood there in silence as he watched his friend retake his seat, his hands hanging limp at his side. People treated him as if he was stupid, but he’d learned how to watch people when they weren’t looking. He knew his best friend’s tells, and he was shaken up to hell and back.

“… you wanna talk about it?”

“No, I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it, cuz there ain’t nothin’ t’talk about! _Where’s my fucking drink_!?” He returned his attention to the man in the back, who was obviously taking longer than usual to return.

The sound of a bottle breaking and the splash of liquid drew a curse from the sniper’s lips.

“Fuck this, keep your fuckin’ booze.” Mordecai hopped off the stool and stormed past Brick, his shoulder colliding with his arm with enough force to shift the large man’s weight back a step.

“Mordy. Hey, Mordy.” Brick gave pursuit and followed him out, glad that they were getting out of the stench of beer and cigar smoke… and whatever sticky mess covered the floor. “Would you just wait a second?”

“How about you shut up, Brick? I don’t wanna talk about it!” Mordecai continued to storm past the Runner towards the sandy horizon. He had no more patience for this bullshit.

And neither did Brick, as he took a full charge and tackled the lanky man into the sand. The struggle didn’t last very long.

“We’re gonna talk about it, whether you like it or not!” He easily pinned Mordecai’s shoulders, but his failure to trap his legs left him open for a swift kick to his crotch. He grunted against the pain that worked itself into a knot in his stomach, but he was determined to stay the course.

“Mordy, stop being stupid.”

“You’re stupid.” Mordecai hocked and spat at Brick’s face, the slimy projectile landing on his cheek. Brick’s grip tightened on the man’s shoulders enough to make his knuckles ache.  
“Yeah, but I’m not the one trying t’drink myself to death. That ain’t how you wanna go.”

“How th’fuck would you know?!”

“Cuz that ain’t you! You don’t wanna die in some shitty bar surrounded by people you don’t know!” Brick watched as the sneer on his friend’s face faded, just for a second. Maybe what he said was working.

“I ain’t scared o‘dyin’.”

“Like hell. S’th’only reason you’re out here after what happened.”

After what happened…

_Hot boiling lava ate through the ship’s metal, turned it into slag, and it was creeping closer. Like a malevolent force with all the time in the world to watch him suffer. The heat had stolen his air and burned his chest from the inside out, singed the hairs on his arms, fogged up his goggles. He was ready to call it, to sign off on the rest of his life… before he felt that large arm around him, dragging him to safety._

Of all the people to be a fucking guardian angel, Brick shouldn’t have even made the list.

The brawler could feel the tension eking out of Mordecai’s shoulders, and let up on his grip.

“You’re gonna be alright.”

Twice. This was twice, now the large man had saved him.

Mordecai gave him the most shit-eating grin he could muster, to bury the ache in his chest.

“You fucker.”


End file.
